Mutatis Mutandis : Iniquitous Genesis
by N2
Summary: The start of the second arc of the 'Mutatis Mutandis' timeline. Safe in Snow Valley, the kids have to learn to play nice.
1. playing nice

**Our Story So Far:**

After 'Day of Reckoning' the X-Men were forced to coexist with the Brotherhood until the location of Charles Xavier was revealed. The Brotherhood, for their part, discovered how little they really meant to their benefactor, Mystique. When Mystique was finally put out of commission, the Brotherhood elected to stay with the X-Men. 

The New Mutants were driven into hiding. During this time Jamie Madrox was shot and his death prompted all the New Mutants save Bobby Drake to turn their back on Xavier when he finally returned. 

The world is in a state of chaos - the existence of mutants is known now and people are not exactly happy. While Xavier was trying to keep a low profile, Magneto and his team of Acolytes chose to exacerbate the situation by attempting to murder a prominent anti-mutant senator. The assassination was not successful and had the unfortunate result of making Senator Hull more determined than ever to put an end to 'the mutant threat.' 

One of the Acolytes, Blink, went through a moral crisis, which resulted in her defecting the team and joining Xavier and his students. Following this event Magneto once more attacked Senator Hull, this time with disastrous results. Hull, reacting against the first assassination attempt, had contacted one Oliver Trask and financed the production of more Sentinels. These Sentinels proved too much for the Acolytes - Magneto was crushed and his team had no choice but to flee for their lives with the X-Men. 

Xavier, for his part, had nowhere to turn. His mansion was destroyed and he was listed as a wanted man. Out of desperation he turned to the one person who might be willing to help his children: Emma Frost. 

The notorious White Queen welcomed the X-Men, Brotherhood and Acolyte members alike into her private academy located in the heart of Snow Valley, Massachusetts. She claimed to only want a chance to teach the next generation of homo superior. but what she wants to teach them isn't exactly clear. 

And so begins the second arc of _Mutatis Mutandis_. 

**Iniquitous Genesis**   
Chapter One   
by N 

Once, Evan Daniels decided as the alarm sounded and shattered his peaceful slumber to unrecognizable pieces, just _once_ he'd like to live somewhere that allowed you to sleep in until a decent hour. Say, eleven thirty. No, no. 

_Noon_. 

Yawning expansively, but careful not to let any spikes slip through his skin as he did so, Evan pulled himself out of bed. He glanced at the calendar on his wall as he headed out the door and was surprised to realize that he'd now been living at the Massachusetts Academy for officially two weeks. 

_Funny_, he mused as he clumped down the hall to the bathroom. _It really doesn't feel that much different from living at the Institute._

All the students were still expected to be awake at early hour for training sessions, after which they were given time to shower. Breakfast was served in the main building at seven o'clock sharp and classes started at nine. The curriculum was still being debated - Ms. Frost seemed to have all sorts of interesting course ideas but McCoy was insistent that 'normal' courses such as math and English be taught as well. So the classes tended to vary a bit from day to day. Evan personally wished that somebody would see that putting 'Mutant Biology' right before lunch was not exactly the best idea in the world; even Kurt had lost his appetite after a lecture on the properties of Tolensky's slime. 

As Evan let himself into the bathroom he mused that the most bizarre thing about living at the Academy was having to board in the same building as their so-called enemies. Granted, most of them were still sticking to their respective teams outside of training, but Evan had noticed a slight shift in some people's attitudes. 

The Aussie, for example, honestly didn't seem to have a problem interacting with people outside his team. He'd stroll up to whoever happened to be nearby and just start chatting. Evan had had a few conversations with the guy - he was into extreme sports, which was cool - and he had to admit that he was starting to think of him as less of a potential threat and more of just a normal guy at school. 

Strangely, even seeing his lifelong nemesis speeding around campus served to make the place seem more like home. Evan had grown up Pietro's rival - knowing that at least one thing in his life remained constant was actually comforting. 

_Not enough constants lately,_ Evan thought a bit sullenly. _But at least now it looks like things have settled down_. 

*** 

_Concentrate,_ Jean Grey repeated to herself. _Relax and concentrate._

She was standing in the training arena, feet shoulder-width apart and parallel. Her arms hung at her sides and her head titled forward, her eyes closed. Her breath came in deep, steady inhalations. 

*Reach outwards, dear,* came the telepathic command. Jean did so, expanding her consciousness and reaching with psionic senses until she could feel a steady hum in the air. 

*I feel it, Miss Frost,* she relayed to the blonde woman standing several feet away, watching with intent eyes. 

*Good. That's ambient psionic energy. I want you to try and channel it. Pull it towards you, like you were a lightning rod, and then direct it into the ground.* 

Jean did as instructed and was pleasantly surprised when she sensed a psionic bolt slam into the rooms' floor. 

*Very nice,* Emma said. Jean could tell she was impressed and tried not to smile. 

The third day they had been at the Academy, Xavier had taken Jean aside. "Jean," he had said, his tone sober, "I need to tell you something." 

"What is it, Professor?" Jean had asked. 

"It's about Emma Frost. Jean, Emma is a very powerful telepath. As such, I know for a fact that she will be interested in working with you as you share some of the same gifts." He sighed. "Jean, I trust you. I just want you to remember that no matter what Emma may attempt to teach you, your morals and ethics are your own. Don't let any unwanted influence sway them." 

The very same day Emma had approached her with the offer to help her with some of her powers in one-on-one sessions. Jean had agreed, her curiosity somewhat piqued due to the Professor's veiled warning. 

_What could be so wrong that she wants to teach me?_ Jean had wondered. 

Now, almost two weeks later, Jean had a better inkling. Emma's first few sessions had been devoted entirely to what she called 'mind wiping' - the telepathic bleaching of memories. Jean knew the Professor did this himself, but only in the most dire of situations. Emma's attitude towards the act, however, seemed to be considerably more casual. 

"Sometimes, Jean darling," she had said as the two of them sat in Emma's posh office, "it's more convenient to have people simply forget things. It can save your life." She'd grinned and Jean had felt herself smile back in spite of her reservations. "Socially as well as literally." 

Now, standing in the training arena, Jean reflected that Emma Frost might not be the most ethical woman in the world, but she was certainly one of the most _powerful_. And, in some way, Jean respected that. 

_I bet none of Emma's boyfriend's ever thought they needed to save her,_ Jean thought to herself as she relaxed a little. 

"You'd be surprised, dear," Emma said, placing a hand on the girl's shoulder and startling her out of her reverie. Her ruby lips were lifted in a smirk. "But with men sometimes you just have to let them have their little delusions. Their egos bruise SO easily." 

At that, Jean laughed along with her new teacher. 

*** 

Mid-afternoon found Hank McCoy afflicted with a severe case of the munchies. 

He's spent most of the afternoon lecturing his young mutant charges on Shakespeare's _Hamlet_, but he could tell he was losing the battle for their interest and had dismissed them early. He'd skipped lunch because he'd been preoccupied with reading the play before the lecture (despite his having memorized most if it) and now he found he was positively ravening for a plate of Oreos and a glass of milk. 

Upon reaching the kitchen, however, found that a somewhat morose looking Bobby Drake had purloined his snack of choice. 

"I don't suppose any of those escaped the bottomless pit that is your adolescent stomach?" Hank asked without much hope. 

"Sorry," Bobby replied. "But there's a pack of chocolate chip in the cupboard." 

Hank nodded got himself a glass and a plate from the dishwasher. "Well, young Robert, did you find the Bard's familial tragedy as snore-inducing as your classmates?" 

"Huh?" Bobby replied. 

"_Hamlet_," Hank explained patiently. 

"Oh. I guess it's okay." Bobby shrugged. "I'm sorry, Mr. McCoy, but I guess I wasn't really paying attention in class." 

"Something on your mind?" Hank asked. Bobby was a bright kid, and he genuinely liked him and wanted him to feel comfortable confiding in him. After all, the kid didn't seem to have many other close confidants since the other new recruits had struck it out on their own. 

"Nah. Well, sort of. It's just. _weird_ being here. It's like we stepped back in time to before the Mansion exploded, but into a wacky parallel universe version." He grinned. "One where our teachers think lingerie is high fashion." 

"I can assure you, Bobby, that neither Logan nor myself will start wearing lingerie." 

Bobby cracked up laughing and sprayed Oreo crumbs everywhere. Hank smiled. 

"I guess it's just hard to trust some of the other people here," Bobby stated after he'd controlled his giggles. 

"Understandable," Hank admitted, dipping a chocolate chip cookie into his milk. "But one never knows. Some of Magneto's soldiers seem to be genuinely good people underneath the dogma they may spout. After all, young Miss Ferguson was an Acolyte. And Wolverine claims that Russian fellow doesn't seem sincerely devoted to mutant superiority in any way." 

Bobby nodded. "Yeah." He frowned. "That guy's _huge_, Mr. McCoy. Do you think maybe he's on steroids or something?" 

Hank laughed and ruffled Bobby's hair with one massive hand. "I sincerely doubt it, young Robert. He probably just eats well. You know - he doesn't consume a whole box of Oreos on his own." 

"Ha, ha." 

*** 

Piotr Nikoleivitch Rasputin had a secret. 

Born and raised on a farm in Russia, he was the epitome of the strong silent type. Tall, muscular, and not one for idle chatter, he had all his life been considered a steadfast and practical person. Life, to young Piotr, had been a simple and rewarding routine consisting of family and hard work. 

Then Magneto had appeared, having somehow discovered that Piotr possessed the ability to turn his brawny form into solid metal, making him a veritable colossus of power. 

Magneto had desired that power. And so Piotr was faced with some complications in his otherwise simple life. Still, the decision was pretty easy - he had to go with Magneto and do as the madman ordered or his family would be hurt. 

And now? Well, things weren't exactly simple. On the one hand, Magneto was out of the picture, which meant Piotr was free to return to his beloved family. But on the other hand, doing so might attract giant mutant-killing robots to his family farm. Further muddling the issue was that Piotr was starting to almost _relax_ a little, enjoying the respite he'd been granted from fighting. 

And that was part of his secret. 

Quietly, making sure nobody was around, Piotr let himself into a little used room in the Academy. He closed the door behind him and wished for not the first time that the lock worked. Still, he hadn't been interrupted yet, and he doubted anyone would ever have reason to enter the room and catch him in the act. 

From a supply closet Piotr pulled out his supplies and set himself up in the middle of the room, where the light was best. And then. 

Pitor painted. 

This was his secret. He did his best to hide his hobby, mostly because he knew full well how strange it seemed to people - the big Russian farmboy who was capable of lobbing boulders as easily as normal people throw basketballs liked nothing better than to spend a quiet afternoon with a brush in his hand. 

As he painted, Piotr lost track of the 'real' world. He forgot about his concern for his family, forgot about the fact that he was living amongst people who considered him an enemy. all that existed were brush, paint and canvas. 

**** 

_Pretty as a picture, non?_

Remy LeBeau smiled to himself as he watched a certain sullen goth girl trudge past the building. He was out on one of the porches, smoking, as Emma refused to allow him to light up indoors. 

_Well, maybe if de picture was by Edward Gorey._

Without really thinking about it, Remy gracefully vaulted over the porch railing and hurried to catch up to Rogue, who didn't even spare him a glance when he fell into step beside her. 

"Afternoon, _cherie_," he drawled charmingly. 

"Whatevah," she muttered. 

Remy shook his head. "Now _chere_, why you always bein' so hostile t'everyone? Some of us, we jus' want t'know you a lil bettah." 

Rogue looked at him. Glared at him, really. "Ah have no interest in lettin' you know me 'a lil bettah.' Ah don't want you to know me at all." 

Remy clucked his tongue at her. "Now see, dat right there is what I be talkin' about." 

Rogue stopped walking and faced Remy, her hands folded across her chest. 

"You just better remember, Gumbo, that Ah am under no obligation to talk to you. So leave me alone." With that she stomped off, head down. 

Remy grinned a little. 

Pietro wasn't the only one who liked a challenge. 

**** 


	2. fighting on the playground

**Author's Notes:** The usual spiel - part of the _Mutatis Mutandis_ A/U storyline. The entire beast is archived at if you wanna catch up. (we also have flame-broiled Mary Sues and scary Graydon Creed porno.) 

**Iniquitous Genesis**   
Chapter Two   
by N 

Getting along, Scott Summers decided, was a heck of a lot harder than Sesame Street made it out to be. 

He supposed it wasn't so surprising that over the two weeks they had spent now at the Massachusetts Academy he had found Lance Alvers less aggravating than normal - they had, after all, been forced to co-exist more or less constantly since the Mansion had exploded. He still couldn't claim he _liked_ Lance exactly, but he certainly found him less trying than some of the other people he was now sharing residence with. 

Case in point - The Acolytes. More specifically, the Cajun and the Englishman. 

Scott wasn't sure what it was about LeBeau that got his guard up, but he suspected it had something to do with the way the lithe young man seemed to appraise everything in a room as though it were potential pawn-shop merchandise. Scott had actually found himself watching the boy at dinner, expecting him to load the expensive silverware into his pockets. 

It might also have to do, Scott admitted, with how smoothly he seemed to handle anything female. 

Although he preferred to just claim that Remy's goatee pissed him off. 

Scott's animosity towards the Englishman was easier to understand - the guy was a prick. He'd been relentlessly unfriendly to _everyone_ save Clarice since arriving at the Academy, treating even the smallest attempts at civility with contempt. More aggravatingly, at least to Scott, was his stubborn refusal to take orders from anyone save Emma Frost. 

The Acolytes, Brotherhood and X-Men alike were all expected to attend early-morning training sessions, something Scott found secretly comforting as it was just like his routine back at the Mansion. The Acolytes didn't seem to mind much but the Brotherhood boys had certainly made a fuss about being forced out of bed before seven. 

During several training exercises, Scott had found himself falling naturally into his usual role as leader. He'd shouted orders to students not on 'his' team and had been pleasantly surprised when Quicksilver, Toad, and even the huge Russian Colossus had done what he'd told them to. 

Not so Chamber. 

In the middle of an exercise, Scott had hastily shouted a command in the hopes of "minimizing casualties" on all sides. If Chamber had done what he'd told him to, Pyro wouldn't have been flattened against the wall. But instead of complying for the sake of his teammate, he'd just _looked_ at Scott with an air of defiance that would have made James Dean weep with envy. Splat went the flamethrower. 

"What's wrong with you?" Scott had demanded as soon as the session was completed. "He's your teammate and you didn't bother to help him?" 

*No,* Jonothon had replied calmly. 

Scott had left the training arena absolutely _furious_. 

He found himself thinking of that incident now, as the kids all sat huddled in loose groups, the television having been just turned off. 

They'd been watching the news. Well, Scott had been watching the news - most of the other kids were playing some sort of board game and Bobby had been pestering Scott to watch anything BUT the news. 

Everyone's attention shifted to the screen, however, when the latest 'mutant bulletin' came on. 

"Mutant Registration" were the key words of the broadcast. According to the program, the assassination attempt on Hull had pushed Washington into a frenzy of activity and the taxpayers were screaming for blood. They wanted mutants registered NOW. 

"We need to know who they are, and more importantly, what they can do!" Hull shouted impressively from some grainy video footage. "It's a threat to _National Security!_" 

They'd turned the TV off after that. 

"Why do they hate us so much?" Kitty asked quietly. She looked as if she didn't really expect an answer. 

Lance shrugged uncomfortably. "Jealous," he said. 

Scott raised an eyebrow at him. "What?" 

"I said they're jealous." He shrugged again. "I mean, we can do shit and they can't. So they're jealous and they want to keep us down so we don't walk all over 'em." 

"I think they're just scared," Jean interjected. "Understandably so." 

"Sometimes," Kitty muttered, "I wish I _wasn't_ a mutant." She looked guilty then, as though she'd confessed something sinful. 

Lance scowled. "Fuck that," he said. "I love being a mutant. Aside from people constantly trying to kill you, anyway. Powers rock." 

Quicksilver nodded. "Yeah. I mean, we're better than everyone else!" 

Scott frowned. "No we're not. But we _have_ been given these abilities and we should use them. We shouldn't be ashamed of what we are. We should be proud." 

And it's from there that things got ugly. 

*Oh right, that's part of your Professor's philosophy, innit?* Jonothon asked. *'Know that what makes you different also makes you special. Celebrate your uniqueness.'* His 'voice' was lanced with bitter derision. *So very easy for you to say.* 

"Starsmore, we don't all feel that way. Sometimes quite the opposite." 

*'Sometimes.' Rot 'sometimes.' I disagree with the sentiment every bloody day.* 

"Look-" Scott started. 

*Forget it. Unlike you, Summers, I can't hide what I am beneath a pair of cool shades.* 

Kurt's tail lashed but his gaze was steady. "Ja. And what of me, hm? You think I do not know the pain of being different?" 

*Yeah. You know. Which is why you've smartly opted to hide behind a holographic façade. But there's one very important difference between you and I, Kurt.* 

Kurt winced as Jonothon turned to face him fully, the psionic energy field that sustained his life roiling and spitting sparks every which way. It was so bright it hurt the eyes to look at. 

*You. Are. WHOLE.* 

Kurt and Jonothon stared at each other for a second, both defiant. but Scott saw it was Kurt who first dropped his eyes. 

*Like it or not the fact remains that not all of us wind up GQ models with useful if sometimes annoying super-powers,* Jonothon continued, looking at Scott again. *Mutancy, despite whatever your professor or ol' bucket-head may 'ave said ter the contrary, is dangerous. It can sodding KILL you if you're not lucky.* 

Jonothon laughed. Scott decided the sensation could be likened to something rusty and hollow clanging around inside your head. *And if you're really unlucky,* Jonothon said with a shake of his head, *it don't kill you, after all.* 

"So stop whining and fuckin' off yourself already," Lance said after an uncomfortable silence. Scott secretly blessed his rude little heart. 

Jonothon laughed again. *And how do you propose I do that? I'm already dead.* 

"Yeah, you're _that_ goth," Lance retorted. 

Jonothon looked at Lance evenly for a moment before turning and striding out of the room. Lance snorted. 

"Asshole." 

"You might want t'watch it, mate," Pyro said from his position of hanging upside down off the couch. "I really think he doesn't give a fuck. I mean, what's he got t'lose?" He sat up and grinned. "Think that's the only thing I like about him." 

"Jono does SO care about stuff," Clarice admonished quietly. "It's just that most of it's broken." She looked at Kurt. "I'm sorry. What he said wasn't fair." 

Kurt nodded, but Scott thought that he looked unconvinced. 

_Alvers got it right,_ Scott thought angrily. _That guy IS an asshole._

*_You should leave it alone,_* Jean whispered suddenly in his mind. 

*_Probably,_* he replied as he headed for the door. *_But I can't._* 

He went to find Chamber. 

*** 

"Charles, ya can't be serious!" 

The newscast that had come as something as a surprise to the children was not so to the adults - Xavier and Frost had both known that Mutant Registration was bound to be implemented in the near future. After careful interior debate, Xavier had summoned Hank, Logan and Storm to his room. 

"I'm afraid I am, Logan," Charles replied. "Washington is in an uproar. After what Magneto did. well, it's no surprise things are going the way they are now. What is needed is a mutant to step up out of hiding and _defend_ our kind." He sighed. "Logan, we've done nothing wrong." 

"Yeah, like they'll believe that. The government don't play fair, Chuck." 

"Not always, no. But we have to try." 

Storm nodded. "Charles is right. Our home was destroyed - not by humans, as you recall. Still, we were pursued by the authorities and hunted by giant machines designed to hurt us." She shook her head. "That's no way for anyone to be treated, and I refuse to let our children - and their children after them - grow up in a world like that." 

Xavier smiled. "My sentiments exactly. And because of that, I have decided to go to Washington myself." 

"But the kids," Hank interjected. 

"Will be safe here. The entire reason we were running at all was to ensure that they were not harmed in any way. While I don't trust Emma, I must admit that she wouldn't dream of hurting them. These children are innocents. I am an adult, and I must take some responsibility in this situation." 

Logan's shoulders sagged. "I don't like it, Chuck," he growled. 

Storm patted Logan's arm. "No. But it must be done. It's our chance to prove that we mean humanity no harm." She turned to the Professor. "I shall accompany you, Charles." She held up a hand before he could protest. "No. You will need someone there with you. just in case. You have no choice in the matter." 

Logan chuckled. "She's stubborn, Chuck." 

Xavier smiled. "Indeed. Very well, Ororo. Thank you." He sighed. "I don't relish telling the children the news." 

*** 

Scott caught up to the Jonothon outside the main building and fell into pace beside him. The other boy ignored him with quiet determination for about five minutes before he stopped, the remains of his face pulling itself into an exasperated expression. 

*Can't shake you, I suppose,* he said. 

Scott shook his head. "No. Long legs." 

*Wotcher want? A bleedin' apology?* 

"No." Scott folded his arms across his chest. "Although I think you owe Kurt one." 

Telepathic snort. *Tell yer wot, Summers - you go ask the fuzzy elf if wot I said was true." 

"And if he denies it?" 

*Then he's a sodding liar.* 

"Look, Kurt has every right to want a chance to be normal and you have no reason to make him feel bad for that," Scott said quietly. "Jealousy isn't a good enough motivation for cutting into someone like that." 

Jonothon froze and Scott waited, realizing seconds too late that he'd crossed some sort of line. 

_Good_, he thought. _Serves him right._

*Give me one good reason why I shouldn't beat the shite out of you this instant,* Jonothon said angrily, his hands curling into fists. 

"Because you know I'm right." Scott took a step closer, deliberately invading the other boy's personal space, his brows drawn together sternly. "By the way, I notice you weren't attacking _Clarice_. In case you hadn't noticed, she's another _whole_ freak, too." 

Jonothon retreated a step and Scott felt a savage little thrill at the fact. *That's different.* 

"Oh really? How, exactly?" 

*Naff off, Summers,* Jonothon replied, turning away. 

"Oh, I get it. You can't think of how it's different, can you? It's just because she was on your team." 

Jonothon rounded on him. *No, it is bloody well NOT!* he shouted. Scott winced, wishing (not for the last time) that telepaths had a volume switch. He didn't have time for further reflection as a very angry and very combustible specter glared into his eyes. 

*I don't give a toss fer 'teams,' Summers. The lot of yer can 'ang yerselves for all of me, and that includes the Russian, the Aussie and especially Magneto's sniveling little bootlick.* He pulled back somewhat, his shoulders slouching. *So don't you tell me why I feel the way I do, because you have no idea wot that gel means ter me.* 

Scott blinked. "You love her?" he asked, shocked. 

Jonothon laughed. *Not that it's any of your business, but yes. Although not in the way you probably think.* He cocked his head so he could look at Scott down the long length of his nose. *Now if you'll excuse me, I've 'ad quite enough of your bullshit for one evening.* He turned and strode off. 

Scott let him go, but he wasn't able to shake the sense that he'd failed to resolve the problem. 

*** 

Charles Xavier announced his intentions to his students after dinner. The reaction was pretty much what he'd expected: negative. 

"Professor Xavier, you can't just like, leave us!" Kitty practically wailed. "We went through so much to get here." 

Xavier nodded. "I know. And please, I want you children to understand that I am _not_ abandoning you. Part of the reason I a going to Washington is to secure a safer future for all of you." 

*How selfless,* Jonothon psi-muttered. Clarice shot him a warning look. 

"We understand, Professor," Scott said before anyone else could protest. "It's something that you have to do." 

Xavier nodded. "Yes. Thank you, Scott. And please remember that both Logan and Hank will still be here with you." 

"Children, really," Emma added, smiling, "you'll be under my care and supervision." 

Scott felt a sudden urge to join Kitty in begging the Proofessor to stay. 

*** 

Preparations were made, lawyers were called. Wolverine spent twenty minutes on the phone with Nick Fury, swearing more than a sailor with a nasty genital rash. Somewhere amidst all the phone calls and favours called in, Charles was granted access to his considerable finances once more. 

Late in the evening before he was scheduled to leave Massachusetts, Charles Xavier wearily picked up the telephone at his bedside after it rang shrilly. "Hello?" 

"Charles Xavier, is that you?" 

Charles' brow furrowed deeply - very few people could contact him on this line, and yet he was having a hard time placing the voice, which was heavily accented and far too cheerful for such a late hour. 

"Yes," he said cautiously. "Yes, this is he." 

"Saints be praised! Had a hell of a time trackin' ye down, man." 

Charles' brow smoothed and he smiled into the receiver. "Sean Cassidy," he said softly. 

"Aye, aye. A friend in Intelligence tipped me off that ye'd been makin' arrangements t'come out of hiding. I heard about Magneto and yuir school. I'm so sorry, Charles. Whatever happened t'the children?" 

"They're as safe as they're going to get. Unfortunately, I have to leave them. I can't drag them into this business with the government." He sighed. "I worry. If something happens while I'm away. Wolverine is capable, but you know how he gets." 

"That I do. Well Charles, ye let me know if I can help in any way. I'm on a leave of absence from Interpol at th'moment, so me schedule is wide open." 

_Probably shouldn't have said that, old friend,_ Xavier thought and then slowly said, "Well, there is ONE thing." 

*** 


End file.
